A Post Apocalyptic Father Son Conversation
by The Almighty Mian
Summary: Parental guidance is advised.


Hello, I'm back!

Sorry for my absence, I do hope none of you have lost faith in me.

This is a fun ONESHOT~

Enjoy~!

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><p>One cloudy day in Palumpolum, six former l'Cie were hastily yelling their farewells as a seventh was pushing them out of his home.<p>

"Goodbye, Mr. Estheim―"

"See ya laytah, Bahtey!"

"Ow, Howp, stop pushing―"

"Bye, Bart!"

"Guys, get _out―_"

"Whot, past yoh bedtoym?"

"Bye, Mr. Estheim!"

Finally, Hope managed to shut the door with a satisfying _click_. He sluggishly plopped onto a sofa next to his father, who was smiling from ear-to-ear.

"Your friends are nice," Bartholomew commented to Hope.

"Yeah, they're great, aren't they? Just a bit of work, though."

"Ah, don't worry, son, friends are always worth it," Bartholomew said, slapping his son's thigh. Hope jerked awake.

"Sazh is nice," Bartholomew continued, "I mean, recently it hasn't been often I got to 'hang out' with men my own age."

"Yeah, I'm glad you're socializing more, dad," Hope replied, leaning back down.

"Although looking at him and Dajh makes me think I went into the playing field a bit early."

Hope's eyebrows knit together. "Playing field? What..."

Bartholomew went on as if he didn't hear the interruption. "But it was rather hard to resist the temptation those fifteen years ago, I couldn't have waited like Sazh did."

"Wha―"

"God, your mother's breasts were amazing! Supple and firm―"

"Oh, God, dad―!"

"―but extremely soft to the touch. And her ass... was magnificent."

"What the hell!"

"She looked kinda like Britney Spears in those days, without the crack―"

"Who the hell―"

"And well, you know, she couldn't really resist me. So we went on that first date at Nautilus Park― I daresay the smell of chocobo acted as some sort of aphrodisiac then―"

"Oh, God, dad, stop―"

"And well, we got a little, hehe, _naughty_ on the Nautilift, and nine months later we had you."

Hope could only stare with a horrified expression.

Bartholomew nodded nostalgically at Hope, completely oblivious to his son's plight. "I remember thinking when I first saw you, _who the hell_ did this come from? God, you looked nothing like me! 'Is this really the fruit of my loins?'"

"Wh―"

"Next I wondered if you were a boy or a girl, because you just had the _smallest_ little wiener I'd ever seen! It was hilarious―"

"B-but... what?"

"But you were just beautiful, Hope. Never thought I'd see something as precious as you were right at that moment. Your mom and I probably would have had more children if a little experiment on a motorbike hadn't caused me to lose my left testicle a few years previously―"

"You mean― wh― a _flying_ motorbike―?"

"Fell right out of my pants. Think it hit someone. Imagine what you'd look like if I had _two_ testicles, now that is one good-looking lad."

"I... you mean... what?"

"Hope, to the best of my knowledge, I'm sure you still have both testicles, yes?"

Hope stared blankly at his father, a look of sheer terror blanketing his face.

Bartholomew patted his son on the back. "Use them wisely, my son. Use them wisely. That Lightning's a looker, huh?"

"_God_, dad―"

"Got a nice backside on her, too. Careful with the legs, though, they look tangle-prone―"

"_How can you say all this with a straight face?_"

"―nice, childbearing hips."

"S-she's... _huh?_"

"Imagine all that in our gene pool."

"_God, dad, _she's twenty-one, for fu―"

"Age is just a number, Hope. Cougars are rather excellent, especially those who are more than twenty years older than you, I can attest to that."

"What...?"

"Well, if Lightning's not your type, I suppose that Vanille girl is nice, too. I just never really liked gingers, though..."

"Dad..."

"Fang has good genes, but I worry for your marriage..." Bartholomew reflected, tapping his chin thoughtfully, completely unaware of his son slamming his own face into the coffee table.

"So, son, who will it be?"

"_None_ of them, dad―"

"None? Is it someone I don't know?"

"Oh, God, dad―"

Bartholomew gasped and suddenly grabbed Hope's shoulders, forcing his son to face him. He looked Hope in the eye, his face completely serious.

"Are you gay, son?"

Hope threw his hands up and flew into a frenzy. "I am not gay, dad, I am not― Oh my God, dad, how could you even―"

"Are you sure, son? Because it's perfectly alright if you are―"

"What―_ what__?_ Dad―"

"We all go through that; I was gay for a little while―"

"Y-you were what? Dad, what are you saying―"

"―is it Snow?"

"_What?_ No, it's Snow, it's not _anyone_―"

"It's fine, son, being gay is fine, as long as you impregnate someone beforehand―"

"_Dad! Dad! Oh, God, stop! Please!_"

"Just to get the Estheim blood going―"

"Jesus― Dad― oh God. I'm going to my room."

Bartholomew quietly watched his son get up and walk away for a few seconds, then called out, "Are you going to masturbate?"

"No, dad, _no_. Just... oh God," Hope said, defeated, before slamming his bedroom door shut.

"Nothing with teeth, alright? Wouldn't want you to get hurt."

A mixture of miserable and violent sounds emitted from behind Hope's door.

Bartholomew stood up and dusted himself off, and called out, "Dinner will be ready in a few minutes, son, so finish up quick, okay?"

He went into the kitchen, looking rather proud of himself, and said, "Communication."

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><p>Hello~<p>

I know, a bit OOC for Barty, but hey, it's just some newfound father-son communication!

Inspiration for this: Sims 3 elevator WooHoo, Sazh and Vanille taking the Nautilift, Easy A, and Meet the Fockers.

I've actually had this for quite a while, but I've only been able to come up with a title today.

Galenth Dysley chapter coming soon, with the sexy Lt. Amodar as a guest.

Maybe some FFXIII-2 fics in the future.

Thanks to all my subscribers who still keep the faith, and SoupieLuv for trying to get me off my lazy butt.

Questions, comments, praises, complaints, requests, and flails about how hot Hope is in FFXIII-2 go straight to Reviews.

Favorite and subscribe (to me) as well!

WOTCHA!


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